


Alternate: Ghost of Tomorrow

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Ghost of Tomorrow Multiverse [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sith Temples, Vague Discussion of Ancient Blood Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Padawan Kenobi died because of a series of choices his master made.Now said master has to explain his actions to one very, very merciless duchess.





	Alternate: Ghost of Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Because once again I had an idea for two different methods of Satine menacing Qui-Gon Jinn and they didn't work together.
> 
> Courtesy Warning for Qui-Gon fans: He is villainized here.

 

It had been years. Five, to be exact.

Qui-Gon had finally reached the point where he no longer expected to hear the quiet Coruscanti voice at his elbow.

Where not  _every_ night he awoke from nightmares of remembering the boy's brutal end.

Striding through the halls of the Senate to go speak with Senator Antilles about Alderaan's contributions to a refugee relief effort, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Master Jinn. It's good to see you. How are you?”

Qui-Gon turned to find clear blue eyes, an overly ornate dress, and two guards who radiated absolute loyalty in the Force.

Six years older than when he'd seen her last, her early twenties were kind to her face and form.

“I've been busy. It was nice to see you, but I'm late for a meeting—”

She gave a nod. “Is Padawan Kenobi on planet? I would like to see him before I return to Mandalore.”  
_She— she doesn't know?_

“Obi-Wan is one with the Force.”  
The only sign of the knife through her heart was a near-silent intake of air and her face draining of blood.

For a long moment she didn't speak, and Qui-Gon could sense her guards' horrified sympathy.

“How?” she asked at last, voice low and steady.

“We were seeking knowledge in a Sith temple. It... took him.”

“The situation must have been dire to risk something so foolhardy.” Satine gave a grim nod.

“Foolhardy?” Qui-Gon echoed, amazed.

She raised one eyebrow, apparently as amazed by his confusion as he'd been by her response. “Sith Temples are not inert; they have lives of their own. They thirst for Jedi blood, the more light-filled the better.”

“It's  _stone,_ ” Qui-Gon grit out. “People keep away because of myths and  _lies_ spread to scare children at night.”

Satine frowned. “Are the Jedi so terribly misinformed? A Mandalorian would never set foot in a Sith Temple except with no recourse. Far too many have gone mad in their depths, their lives spared only because their blood had little value to the presences there.”

“Jedi are unfortunately bound by superstition and ancient fears that have no place in the modern mind. Scientifically speaking, there is nothing different about—”

“Your Padawan died at the whim of a  _building,_ and yet you still see it this way?” Satine scoffed. Her affect immediately softened as she asked, “How long did he suffer?”

Qui-Gon felt rattled. “What makes you so sure he  _did_ ?”

“I know the Sith. Especially the dead ones. They are cruel beyond measure, and Obi-Wan would have been quite the prize.”  
“It was an accident.”

“How many hours?” Durasteel entered her tone, she would  _not_ be distracted from her query.

“I don't know,” Qui-Gon grit out. “I wasn't...  _awake..._ the whole time.”

Satine nodded. “What did it do to him?”  
“That's classified information.” It wasn't, actually, but he didn't want to relive it, he  _couldn't_ relive it— the fear, the pain in his child's eyes as the boy bled out, feeding a presence Qui-Gon couldn't explain, couldn't fight—

“How long ago did he pass?”

“Five years ago.”

All compassion fled from her.

Beneath the concealment of her dress, Qui-Gon sensed her feet shift position. The way she held her body subtly changed, her expression went cold and distant, but there was a fire in her eyes that hinted to the barely-restrained Mando within.

“Five years,” she said, tone almost casual. “Curious how you never thought to mention it.”

“This is the first time we've crossed paths—”  
“I've stood watch over his soul for five years after it was  _gone._ How difficult would a comm call have been?  _Ben is dead_ is all it would have taken. No security would have been compromised, and neither would your oaths.”

Qui-Gon turned away from her. “You think this hasn't haunted me?”

“Poor choice of words,” Satine hissed. “Your body language implied it wasn't your last resort. Did no one warn you, besides the Jedi you disregard without thought?”

“Duchess, I am  _late—_ ”

“Did Obi-Wan not sense danger?”

Qui-Gon tried to throw out a lie, found his lips wouldn't move, the traitorous bastards.

He had his back to her now, and he felt the chill, the  _fear—_

He spun around with a simultaneous spring backwards, expecting to find a knife buried where he'd stood a moment before.

Instead, Satine stood tall and regal, unmoved, nearly surrounded by flames in the Force.

An avenging angel, a messenger of death.

Shaken to his core, Qui-Gon stared at her, too flooded with adrenaline to care that his reaction was embarrassing, given the fact she  _hadn't_ attacked.

“Do you know  _why,_ Qui-Gon Jinn?” she asked, her voice almost musical in its deceptive quiet. “Why it tore the life from him and let you go?”

“It didn't—  _I got myself out—_ ”

“It would have barely seen you once he stepped foot inside. It would have craved him, coveted him, hunted him. And once it drank of him? There was not enough light in you to draw its desire. It didn't want you. Better to stop than to lose the taste of something so precious by consuming something so much less.”

He stared at her in dull horror.

“I hope you found the knowledge you sought, Qui-Gon Jinn. I hope it was worth sacrificing him for it.”

“I didn't  _know—_ ”

Her presence seemed to expand, fill up the width of the hallway, an unspoken menace.

“And  _I_ didn't know, until right this moment, that you made the choice, but  _now I do._ You should have held your tongue, Master Jedi.”

“All knowledge comes at a price. When it asked if I was willing to pay that price to learn, I thought it meant it would take something from  _me—_ ”

“Clearly it overestimated how much you cared for him. Obi-Wan had no interest in learning this hidden power or knowledge, did he? He followed you in because you  _wanted_ this and would not let a chance to take something more slip through your fingers. He didn't even want it, but he's the one who paid the cost.”  
Qui-Gon backed away, unwilling to turn around again, but needing to get away.

“Perhaps it's a good thing you don't believe in Sith Temples, or you might be worried Obi-Wan's soul ended up trapped there, unable to find peace. There's a reason they  _speak,_ Qui-Gon. The Sith fear death, they fear  _ending._ The Temples are meant to catch their spirits and keep them here as long as possible. They are confined, but not  _gone,_ never gone. You better pray until your lips bleed that his soul isn't trapped with  _theirs_ for all eternity. Pray his pain is over now.”

“Master Jinn? The Senator will see you now.”  
Qui-Gon escaped into Antilles' office without once turning his back to the predator in the hallway.

 


End file.
